Explicit Orders
by Bekki Beekeeper
Summary: Cancel team night? They must be nuts.
1. The Code

**Title:** Explicit Orders (Part 1 of 2. Or maybe Part 1 of 3, I haven't decided yet.)  
**Rating:** K. (No actual explicit content, don't worry!)  
**Pairing:** Underlying Sam/Jack in future part(s)  
**Category:** Humour. Not designed to be laugh-out-loud, just mildly amusing.  
**Feedback:** If you read this and enjoy, please review! If you read this and don't like it, tell me – but nicely, please :)

_**Disclaimer:** None of the characters are mine (belonging to Gekko Corp. and such) and the obsession with team night is totally made up. I love my imagination._

* * *

"Cancel team night? Are you _nuts_?"

The three other members of Jack O'Neill's team exchanged nervous glances. It had been Sam who had hazarded the suggestion. In truth, Daniel acknowledged with a pang of guilt, he'd persuaded her to do it, pleaded with her to do it. Offered jello. Lots of jello.

The Air Force officer he knew so well now stood to attention before her CO, hands clasped tightly behind her back. Even Teal'c, who was rarely one to show unease, shifted slightly to reaffirm his stance. As Jack's glare burned into each of them in turn, Daniel was suddenly very glad he hadn't come to break the news alone.

Telling Colonel Jack O'Neill that none of them could make team night really _was_ nuts.

"The thing is, Jack," Daniel began courageously. He faltered as soon as Jack's gaze snapped back to him. "The thing… the thing is…"

"_Well_?" O'Neill's eyebrows were raised so high it was threatening.

"Well, sir," Sam tried, "what I think Daniel is trying to say is…"

She trailed off, looking to the archaeologist for help. He offered: "We're all busy."

"Yes. Busy." Sam raised her chin as Jack glared at her. "Sir."

"Busy doing _what_, exactly?"

"Work, sir."

"Work?"

"Yes, Jack, work is when you actually…" He stopped himself. _Bad move, Daniel. Very, very bad move._

Jack swore at him, coarsely, maliciously and very loudly. Suddenly the commissary was silent around them. A spoon clinked on a saucer. Jack span on his heel towards the offensive sound and an enormous marine made an amusing dash for the door. Sam couldn't resist the faintest of smile at the spectacle. She should have known better: some colonels in the US Air Force could _smell_ smirks, and Jack O'Neill was that kind of Colonel.

_Uh–oh._

She wasn't sure how long the next torrent of profanities took, only that it might possibly have broken a world record. They had come here to the commissary in the hope that a public setting might deter Jack's wrath. Unfortunately, their audience had produced no such effect and one of the new recruits sitting directly behind O'Neill looked as though he was about to burst into tears.

"Colonel, if I may…" Sam began cautiously after he had finally run out of expletives. She tensed, anticipating another outburst; instead he gave a grunt, permission for her to continue. She hesitated, but his swift, slicing glance prompted her to resume her explanation. "It's not that we don't want team night to go ahead, we do…" – Daniel was nodding his head in fervent agreement – "it's just that, well …we have orders… sir."

"And a mission," Daniel added quickly, before Jack could respond, "tomorrow. And we have, er, orders. Well, actually, Sam and Teal'c have orders, I have …stuff… to do. And I just thought, well, as neither Sam nor Teal'c can make it tonight, I should take the opportunity to finish off those translations SG-12 are waiting for…"

He trailed off, rather belatedly. Jack was staring at him intently; Daniel swallowed. When Jack spoke, his voice was dangerously low.

"Did we, or did we not, have a specific briefing about team nights before a mission? Did we, or did we not, reach a decision? Did I, or did I not, make my opinions clear?"

Daniel glanced at Sam, wondering if that was supposed to be rhetorical or whether they were actually expected to answer. Teal'c had no such reservations and spoke for the first time in the whole debate. How he always managed to get away with being the silent one was entirely unfair, Daniel decided. Still, he felt a lot safer knowing the Jaffa was there to hide behind in case of emergency.

"You were quite adamant on the matter, O'Neill," Teal'c said. "I believe you laid down a number of domestic decrees–"

"House rules," Daniel interjected.

"–explicitly outlining the decisions you had made."

Explicitly was right, Sam thought, with irony.

"Yes I did, Teal'c," Jack replied. His voice was remarkably calm but had not yet lost its razor edge. Around them, the commissary was beginning to recover its hum of conversation. "And do any of you remember the standing orders I gave regarding team night?" His gaze shifted expectantly to his second-in-command and she rattled them off hastily:

"One: team nights are exclusively for the relaxation and recreation of members of SG-1. Any guest or visitor will only be admitted by consensus of all team members, or alternatively, by order of Colonel O'Neill.

"Two: team nights are to take place on the first available date after downtime has been announced. If downtime is not announced, but more than two members of the team are present on-base, team night will take place at the first opportunity."

"Three: Carter will not work during team nights." Jack always took it upon himself to recite the third point.

"Four," Sam continued, as if she hadn't detected the sardonic glee in her superior's tone, "team nights directly preceding a mission are always to take place in a neutral location. Five: team nights directly preceding a mission are always to take place. Six: team nights will always involve cake. Seven…"

"There."

Daniel, who had almost as much trouble paying attention to regulations as Jack did to science, said, "Sorry?"

"Points four and five of the Team Night Code!" Jack barked, making the poor airman behind him jump again. "Carter." She repeated them. He nodded imperiously.

"Oh. I thought you said point four twice by accident," Daniel replied apologetically to Sam.

"No, Daniel," Jack answered for her. "Point four is about location. Point five is about the issue we are currently discussing."

"You know, I never understood point four…"

"Daniel, we went through this! Right after those missions to P8X–442 and P3R–290."

They shuddered in unison – with the exception of Teal'c, who just said, "Those were indeed unfortunate encounters."

"Yes," Jack agreed grimly, "they were. Which is why I felt it necessary to instigate the Team Night Code." When Daniel continued to look bewildered, Jack sighed loudly. "Carter! Explain to him why I felt it necessary to instigate the Code."

Sam opened her mouth but lacked a response. Not wanting to provoke another outburst from her commander, she took a guess: "Superstition, Colonel?"

"A bit of a strong word, Carter, but it'll do," Jack conceded. "I like to call it _taking precautions_."

"I still don't understand," Daniel replied.

"Nor do I, O'Neill," Teal'c said. "What relevance has team night to our mission preparations?"

Jack rolled his eyes. "Does no-one _ever_ listen?"

Sam thought it wise not to point out that General Hammond had reprimanded the Colonel only hours before in their briefing for not paying attention. Fortunately, Daniel had enough sense not to mention it either; Teal'c just gazed knowledgeably into mid-distance.

Making another show of rolling his eyes, Jack sighed. "Carter?"

Sam gritted her teeth. This was wholly unfair. It was true, though, that she was probably the only other member of the team that understood the ritual and superstition that military personnel could assign to dangerous operations. Do things right and you get out alive. Alter the ritual and the results might not be worth thinking about. So much for scientific scepticism.

"The mission to P3R–290 took place after a team night started at my house; we spent the rest of the evening at Daniel's apartment," she explained. "Needless to say that on the mission we were both… adversely affected. The team night before the mission to P8X–442 was held at your cabin, Colonel. On the mission you ended up–"

"Yes, thank you, Carter," Jack snapped. "I think we all remember how I ended up." He turned to Daniel and Teal'c. "_Now_ do you get it?"

"You think we were injured according to whose house team night was held at?" Daniel asked, trying hard not to laugh.

"This is _not_ funny, Daniel," Jack fumed.

Teal'c observed: "It appears an unlikely explanation for the inauspicious events encountered upon those missions."

"Easy for you to say," Jack muttered. "You weren't… 'adversely affected' on any of them. Which further supports my theory, in fact."

"But Colonel," Sam said, "what has that got to do with tonight? We're not asking to go to anyone's house or quarters, we're just asking for the evening to be postponed."

"Oh, no, Carter. You want to break point five of the Code. That is to say, you want to cancel a team night directly preceding a mission. Postponing it until after the mission is just the same as cancelling it."

"What's wrong with cancelling it?" Daniel wanted to know. Jack shifted his gaze slowly to Daniel and said, slowly and emphatically:

"P3X–985."

There was a tight-lipped silence amongst all four members of the team.

"And guess what?" Jack continued, after he was satisfied that designation had produced the desired effect. Sam answered in spite of herself.

"We cancelled team night the previous evening."

"_Exactly_." Jack folded his arms. "Now. Unless you want to risk a repeat of that darned awful experience, I suggest we meet at 1900 hours, as planned, in the rec room, as planned. Any objections?" He looked pointedly at each member of his team. There was mumbling and shaking of heads.

"Good. 1900 hours, then. And Carter?"

"Sir?"

He surveyed her with a twinkling sentiment of mystery in his eye; she blinked back at him as he smiled coyly.

"Bring cake."

* * *

_**A/N:** To discover the significance of guests, work and cake at team night, be sure to check back for Part 2!_


	2. Team Night

**Title:** Explicit Orders (Part 2 of 3!)  
**Rating:** K.  
**Pairing:** Underlying Sam/Jack  
**Category:** Humour, in the sense that it is not at all serious! Less about laugh-out-loud punchlines, more about an absurd obsession. I apologise in advance for some of the more bizarre moments in this part…  
**Feedback:** Thank you all so much for reviewing! The feedback I got for Part 1 really spurred me into writing Part 2. Tell me what you think of Part 2 and you'll get Part 3 before long!

**Notes:** I realise Jack was kinda scary in the last part, but it was for the sake of the story. Creative license is a wonderful thing. Of course, I don't usually take advantage of characters this way, but I thank all of you who can suspend your disbelief for the sake of stupidity...

**Disclaimer:** None of the characters are mine (belonging to Gekko Corp. and such) and the obsession with team night is totally made up. I love my imagination.

* * *

"…_1900 hours, then. And Carter?"_

"_Sir?"_

_He surveyed her with a twinkling sentiment of mystery in his eye; she blinked back at him as he smiled coyly._

"_Bring cake."_

Sam Carter smiled deviously as she prodded the precious blue substance in front of her and watched it wobble. It gleamed in the drab lighting, brightening up the whole table as it danced. It reminded her of the Stargate: the event horizon, fluctuating with such astronomic unpredictability. Yet somehow both maintained a certain grace, a certain charm. They promised exotic experiences worth any risk and that was the excitement. She gazed at the stuff, wondering at its flexible molecular structure, the atoms that governed its shape and colour and flavour…

It was amazing how blue jello never failed to distract her.

Sam's smile faded as she attempted to remember what she had been trying to distract herself from in the first place, because quite clearly it had worked a little too well. She glanced at the tempting cake on the table beyond her bowl and remembered Colonel O'Neill's look.

That look. She hated that look. It was a look that he only ever gave her when he knew she would never figure out the joke, never catch on to whatever private moment he was having. It was a look of absolute victory. Sam pulled a face and prodded her jello again, this time out of frustration rather than fascination. The spoon toppled a section of the jello into a battle with gravity; gravity won and half of the brightly-coloured, gelatine-based dessert promptly flopped onto the table with a depressing kind of splat.

She'd seen that look before: he'd been using it a lot lately. She had given up questioning it now. It had made its unwelcome debut over a year ago, in the briefing room and then again over breakfast in the commissary. Both times they were aimed specifically at her. They were always aimed specifically at her. It was unnerving and for some reason entirely embarrassing.

Sam scooped some jello up on her spoon and frowned at it. It wobbled its sympathy and she offered her thanks by eating it.

"Hey Sam. Nice cake."

She looked up to see a friendly face beaming across the table at her.

"Thanks." She returned Daniel's smile, deciding now would be a good time to stop attempting non-verbal communication with her dessert. "I hope you like chocolate gateau."

"Oh, it's chocolate?" He eyed the elaborate cake with distinct disappointment. "I was hoping it was coffee." She chuckled at him, shaking her head as he sat down. "Jack'll love it, though," Daniel assured. "Enjoying your jello?"

Sam's attention returned to her half-eaten dessert and she considered it carefully. "I'd enjoy it a whole lot more if I wasn't defying orders by eating it," she admitted. "It feels like I've been sitting here all evening waiting for this cake to be delivered."

"You had it delivered? Wow."

"Yeah. I thought we'd better make an effort to get back into the Colonel's good books. Unfortunately I'm supposed to be working on a report for General Hammond and I dread to think what he's going to say when he finds out it isn't finished yet." She took a mouthful of her dessert and brightened instantly. "Still, there's always jello."

Teal'c appeared in the doorway, an ominous look darkening his brow. He surveyed them both then stated: "O'Neill has instructed me to ensure your presence at this evening's team night."

"I still don't get this obsession of his," Daniel sighed; he shook his head then rose to his feet. Sam quickly consumed the remainder of her precious jello (or at least what remained in the bowl), then lifted up her cake with care. The three of them trooped out of the commissary and down the corridors towards their team's recreation room, where the Colonel awaited.

"Ah, Teal'c, Daniel." Jack smiled and swivelled on his heel towards Sam. "Carter," he added with a mysterious smile. His gaze dropped to the plate in her hands – "Cake!" – and a moment later he had seized it.

"Yes, sir," Sam answered, "I ordered it in from that local bakery you like."

He gave no sign to suggest he was listening; he had already put a knife to the gateau and was busy measuring himself the perfect slice. The rest of SG-1 settled themselves in their usual chairs: Teal'c on the straight-backed wooden chair beside Jack's recliner, Sam and Daniel on the sofa opposite.

"So Jack," Daniel began, "care to elaborate a little more about the reasons behind the Code?"

"Sure, Daniel," Jack smiled pleasantly. The archaeologist blinked and smiled nervously back. "It's quite simple, really. Team night is something special. An occurrence with unexplained cosmic significance. A phenomenon, if you will. Now, don't ask me how, but our little time of relaxation directly relates to any mission that may occur the following day. Carter," he added in an off-hand kind of way, "have some cake."

"No, thank you, sir," Sam replied courteously, "I've just had a bowl of jello, I don't need–"

"Carter - cake! That's an order."

Sam looked at Daniel; Daniel shrugged. Sam looked at Teal'c; Teal'c raised an eyebrow curiously.

Jack gestured to the cake impatiently. Sam leaned forward to take the leanest slice she could manage but Jack was having none of it: covering her hand with his own to control the thickness of the slice, he increased her portion threefold.

"Er," said Daniel. Jack looked across at him innocently and waited for him to continue. "Why do you keep encouraging Sam to eat cake?"

"Oh, I'm sorry, Daniel," Jack responded, "did you want some?"

"Er, no, I just…"

"All the more for me then!" And he cut himself the biggest slice Daniel had seen any man consume in one go. "Now, for this evening's team night…"

"Wait a minute, Colonel." Sam hadn't realised before, but Daniel was right. She cast her mind back over the previous week to reveal a number of encounters with her CO, each conjuring up that smile of his, each involving cake.

"Yes, Carter?"

He turned his head to look at her. She used all her resolve not to blink. "I think Daniel has a point." She hesitated before she took the risk in adding: "To be frank, sir, you've been acting a little strange lately–"

"Nonsense, Carter," Jack responded airily. "Now as I was saying, for this evening's team night…"

"O'Neill." It was Teal'c's turn to interrupt. "I wish for the concept behind the Team Night Code to be explained once again."

Jack rolled his eyes. "Teal'c, didn't you have any Jaffa rules or codes of practice?"

"We did, O'Neill… but none of them involved dessert."

"Forget the dessert!" Jack exclaimed. Sam had a strong sense, as she gazed down at her enormous wedge of gateau, that his direction wasn't intended for her. "It's not about the dessert – not much, anyway. Just being here as a team is important. Not being at my house is important."

Daniel was beginning to understand the principle of it, even if he did have to resist the urge to fall about laughing at the absurdity. "Don't the Jaffa have superstitions, Teal'c? Things they believe they have to do before every battle to make sure they're kept safe?"

Teal'c raised his chin. "No."

"Pfft!" said Jack. "Liar. I bet it's something really embarrassing like, like… performing a stupid dance in women's underwear or something."

His teasing grin turned into disbelief as Teal'c's eyes skimmed guiltily across the ceiling. They all stared at him.

"Okaaay," said Daniel after a deep breath, "so, team night…"

"No, wait, I want to hear more about this weird Jaffa cross-dressing." Jack, who had apparently now forgotten about his own plans for the evening, was studying Teal'c intently. "You don't still do it, do ya T?"

"I do not, O'Neill," Teal'c asserted; "now let us never again speak of this matter."

An uncomfortable silence settled.

"So," said Sam, "team night…"

That turned out to be a mistake: it drew Jack's attention back to her and he observed incredulously, "Carter, you haven't even touched your cake!"

"Um, sorry sir…" She took a hasty bite. Satisfied, Jack turned to Daniel.

"Now, I do believe you wanted me to explain a little further? Give some more examples about our all-important little gatherings?"

"Yes," confirmed Daniel, rather bravely in Sam's opinion. "I mean I understand the principles behind it, I do, but why team night? Why not… why not tying your left shoelace before your right or always taking a lucky mascot?"

"Daniel, Daniel," Jack replied, shaking his head at the archaeologist's naïvety in such matters, "that kind of thing's for solo missions, or missions where you rely on yourself more than the other guy. When it's a team like us, we depend on each other, so we depend on team night to keep those bonds together."

"Right," said Daniel, slowly. "Makes sense… I suppose."

"So, Colonel," Sam ventured, "you explained points four and five of the Code, but what about having guests or doing work?"

"That's _you_ doing work, Carter, we must be specific."

She had to smile at that. "Yes sir, but what's the significance?"

"You want to know?"

"Yes sir."

"You really want to know?"

"Yes I do, Colonel, that's why I asked."

"Are you sure?"

"Colonel."

"Alright, alright," Jack sighed. "Every time you bring work to team night we end up finding something massively scientific on our next mission. We get waylaid, I get bored, you start spouting technobabble and my head explodes."

"I have never witnessed such an explosion, O'Neill," Teal'c remarked. "Many times you have endured Major Carter's explanations yet your head remains intact."

"Okay, so I was exaggerating, but trust me, that's what it feels like! Ergo, no work at team night!"

Teal'c answered again: "I fail to see what relation the alien entity Urgo has to this situation."

Jack ignored that. "As for guests…" His gaze shifted pointedly to Daniel.

"What?" the poor man asked. Jack's response enunciated his discontent.

"Rothman."

"But I only invited Robert once!" Daniel protested. "He was having trouble settling in; I thought he could do with some encouragement."

"I thought it was a nice gesture," Sam added, "if a little awkward."

"And I'm not disagreeing with that," Jack told them graciously. "I know you had good intentions, Daniel, but I am convinced that he was entirely responsible for the chronic sneezing virus we all contracted on P3X-whatever-it-was. If it hadn't been for Junior, Teal'c would have been in sneezing fits along with us and we'd never have got back to the Gate."

"Oh, come on, Jack…"

"And Carter, as much as I count good ol' Doc Fraiser as one of our most valued friends, she has the worst effect on our health at times."

"Sir?"

"I know you wanted her to have a little fun but team night is strictly off-limits to that woman from now on."

"Oh, but Colonel, it wasn't that bad…"

"There were syringes growing like cacti on that planet!"

It was a good point. In fact, Sam reflected, Janet had found it hilarious that the SGC's primary team had made a hasty retreat from a bunch of self-aware, rather pointy plants. They had flinched at the sight of needles for weeks after that.

Jack shook himself to recover his composure. Then he looked round at them all with a sober expression and said, "Do we all understand the necessity for the Code now?"

Daniel mumbled, "Yeah…" whilst Sam answered with the more dutiful assurance of, "Yes sir." Jack's gaze shifted to Teal'c. Slowly, he nodded.

"I have just one more question, sir," Sam said; Jack raised his eyebrows curiously.

"Yeah, Carter?"

"Sir, what's with all the cake?"

And there it was again, that glittering smile. "Well, truth be told, I am still experimenting with the effects of cake. I'm not quite sure what it does yet, you see." His eyes told her otherwise and, looking down at her massive slice of gateau, Sam frowned.

"So," said Jack, with an unnerving dollop of smugness, "team night…"

* * *

_**A/N:** Haha, hm, what did you think? Hope you enjoyed it. Part 3 soon, forCarter and cake..._


	3. Carter and Cake

**Title:** Explicit Orders (Part 3 of 3)  
**Rating:** K.  
**Pairing:** Underlying Sam/Jack  
**Category:** Humour! And is there a category for cake?  
**Notes:** Well, here it is, Part 3. I just hope it lives up to expectations!  
**Feedback:** Needed more than ever! Now that you have the full product you really must tell me what you think of it all.

_**Disclaimer:** None of the characters are mine (belonging to Gekko Corp. and such) and the obsession with team night is totally made up. I love my imagination._

* * *

Jack O'Neill strode out of the elevator with a distinctive spring in his step. It was the morning of SG-1's mission to P4X-882 and he really was feeling peachy. Team night had gone well: he had won three games of cards and two games of pool; Daniel and Teal'c now understood the significance of their regular get-togethers; and, most importantly, Carter had consumed plenty of cake.

Speaking of Carter…

"Ready to move out, sir?"

She had fallen into step beside him so naturally he had barely noticed; but of course he _had_ noticed, because he always noticed Carter.

"Moving in, moving out," he replied wistfully, "you should move house, Carter."

She blinked. "Sir?"

"Don't get me wrong, it's not that your house isn't lovely," Jack replied, "but I'm tellin' ya, you're missing out."

"Missing out on what, sir?"

"Minnesota." He smiled at her; she smiled back with that mildly alarmed look in her eyes that gave him so much satisfaction.

"Jack! Sam!"

"Ah, Daniel," Jack remarked as Daniel hurried to catch up, "running late again?"

Unlike the two Air Force officers, who were in full military gear, Daniel was still in his BDUs, a coffee moustache adorning his upper lip. Jack smirked and gestured.

"What? Oh…" Daniel wiped it away hastily. "Er, a bit late, yeah. You see, I found this really intriguing variation on the…"

"Daniel." Jack stopped and turned to face him. "As you're already late, perhaps you'd like to run along to the locker room to actually get ready for this mission? We're leaving in ten minutes, you know."

Daniel looked disappointed; Sam sent him a sympathetic look. The bespectacled linguist opened his mouth to say something in reply but for once words failed him and he darted back the way he had come.

"Seen Teal'c this morning?" Jack asked Sam as they resumed their journey along the never-ending network of corridors.

"Yes sir," said Sam; "he should be waiting for us in the Gate Room."

"Good," Jack replied, then smirked, "I thought he might still be sulking from his humiliating defeat last night."

"Colonel, you beat him once."

"Yes, but humiliatingly and with _style_."

Sam was just about to remind him of his own humiliating defeat when she realised they had arrived at their destination. The Gate Room blast doors opened to permit them entrance and once inside Teal'c turned slowly towards them.

"Greetings, Major Carter."

Jack responded cheerfully; he was too smug to be hurt. "Hi to you too, Teal'c."

Sam grinned.

The next ten minutes were spent subtly coaxing Teal'c to acknowledge O'Neill's presence. The Jaffa had clearly taken to heart Jack's 'unjust victory' of the previous evening and was ignoring him with strong determination. It was true that he'd had trouble keeping the balls on the table – that was something Carter had to admit – but she also thought that Jack's chant had been a little harsh.

_Teal'c, Teal'c, he's our man,  
__He can't do it but I sure can!_

To add insult to injured pride, Jack had spent the rest of the evening inventing new sets of rhyming couplets, including:

_Teal'c, Teal'c, he's our bear,  
__He wears women's underwear!_

and other such nonsense.

On second thoughts, maybe the grudge was more about the chant than the actual defeat.

Sam's analysis of the two men's behaviour was interrupted by the technician informing them that he was initiating the dialling sequence.

"Listen, T, maybe I was a little out of order last night," Jack said. Apparently he was eager to reforge their friendship before they embarked; after all, he would be at a great disadvantage if Teal'c conveniently forgot to watch his six. "No hard feelings, waddya say?"

The great warrior's response was cut short by a rather triumphant Daniel, who entered at a run. He skidded to a halt in front of them at the very second the Stargate opened.

"Yes!" he exclaimed and punched the air. He was beaming at his wrist-watch. "Nine minutes and fifty-nine seconds!"

"Ho," said Jack, "Danny's been possessed by the Talking Clock. Hey, maybe we could call him the Walking Clock. What time will it be on the third stroke, Danny?"

Daniel was too excited to take any notice. Instead he tapped his watch enthusiastically and continued, "I did it! I managed to get ready and be here in nine minutes and fifty-nine seconds! I'm not late!"

"If you say so," Jack replied as he surveyed his own watch, eyebrows raised. "Does this mean we're ready to move out now?"

"Yes!" Daniel answered immediately, "yes we are!"

Jack took a moment to partake in Sam's grin, smiling back at her as they shared their amusement. Then he remembered the cake and his smile became that much more devious.

"Good," he said swiftly, "then move out we shall."

They ascended the ramp, a very eager Daniel leading the way – "Too much sugar in his coffee," Sam murmured; "Too much coffee in his coffee," Jack winked – and Teal'c following after him. Jack reached the event horizon next but stopped just short of it; stopped, turned and with a wide sweeping gesture invited Carter to go first.

She looked over her shoulder; he rolled his eyes.

"Yes, you, Carter. There's nobody else on this ramp."

She eyed him warily.

"Look, are you going to go through or are we going to stand here dancing around each other all day? Don't look so freaked out; I just thought you might like to go ahead, that's all."

"Right," she responded slowly. He gave her his best innocent expression and though he knew she wouldn't buy it, it did the trick. With one last suspicious look, Sam stepped through the Gate. Jack grinned, and followed her.

_swooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooosh_

"Honey, we're–" Jack stopped and blinked. "Wow, we really are home."

Whatever he had been expecting, he hadn't quite been expecting to find himself at the top of the same ramp he had been standing on only a second ago. Of course, this had a happened a couple of times before, but at least this time the Gate Room hadn't transformed back to its previous occupation of a missile silo in the Sixties. Ahead of him on the ramp, his team were staring blankly at their all too familiar surroundings.

"Carter?" He always asked Carter to explain things, even when it was impossible for her to provide him with a proper answer. One day he'd give her some slack. It might have been today but for the dawning realisation of what this actually meant for their mission.

"I…don't know, sir. There must have been some kind of malfunction."

"Oh, ya think?" He was irritated. This mission was supposed to be a good mission: a mission with two victories at pool and three wins at cards, a mission with Carter and cake.

And yet here they were, having been oh-so-calmly rejected by the Stargate. As it shut down it seemed to say, "Not today, kids!" and cheerfully wave good bye. Jack turned and looked at the empty ring in disgust.

"SG-1, what happened?"

O'Neill turned back as General Hammond entered the Gate Room.

"No idea, sir," Jack replied, striding down the ramp. "We were trying to get out there but, oh look, we're back in here!"

"Colonel, maybe we should…"

"Check the time, Carter?" Jack interrupted. "Good idea. Let's ask the Walking, Talking Clock, shall we?"

Daniel suddenly found his team mates' attention on him and frowned.

He was saved from replying by General Hammond, who answered instead. "I can assure you, Colonel, you left just a few seconds ago. You stepped through the Stargate and reappeared almost immediately."

"There must have been a gravitational shift we didn't account for," Sam said, "like when the solar flare slingshot us back to Earth when we were trying to travel to P2X-555."

"Well, why haven't we been sent back in time?" Daniel enquired.

"It could be any number of things," Sam replied, "the extension of the gravitational field, planetary shifts, intensity of the flare…" She turned to Hammond. "General, I'd like to run some simulations to try and find out what went wrong."

He granted her request and Jack threw up his hands in exasperation.

"Can't we just try again, sir?" he demanded.

"Not until we know what caused this, Colonel," the General replied. "It would be too much of a risk to send you back out there without knowing where you'll end up."

"With respect, sir, there's always a risk."

General Hammond squared his shoulders and Jack knew the discussion was closed.

"Why don't you use the time to catch up on some paperwork, Colonel?" Hammond suggested. Incredibly, he managed to keep his voice void of irony. "Dismissed."

"Alright," Jack sighed as his superior left, "I'm going to relieve myself of this gear and then I'm going to eat the rest of that–"

_**FLASH**_

"–cake."

He blinked and looked around.

"Um, sorry sir…" Carter took a hasty bite of a very familiar looking chocolate cake. He frowned deeply as he realised she was sitting on the other side of a coffee table, plate loaded with a huge slice of gateau. Next to her on the sofa, Daniel was apparently consumed in thought.

"Woah-ho," Jack muttered and glanced over at Teal'c. The Jaffa's gaze was travelling incredulously around their new surroundings.

They were back in the rec room and Jack would be willing to guess that it was not long past 1900 hours – the previous evening.

"Daniel," he said slowly, "what's the time?"

"Er… ten past seven," Daniel answered after a quick glance at his watch. "Why?"

"No reason," Jack lied. A smile had just sprung up on his face to accompany that twinkle that now gleamed in his eye.

"O'Neill," Teal'c said softly, "were we not a moment ago in the Gate Room?"

"Yeah, Teal'c, I think we were."

"No, we weren't," Daniel answered promptly.

"And have you also once before experienced this night?" Teal'c continued.

"Oh yes," Jack replied. "Oh yes, I think so."

"What are you talking about?" Sam asked after a quick, confused glance at Daniel.

"Major Carter and Daniel Jackson do not appear to remember," Teal'c observed.

At the mention of Sam, Jack's gaze snapped to her. She glanced at Daniel, who looked as bewildered as she felt – when had any of them been in the Gate Room today? – and then at Teal'c, who surveyed her curiously. Finally she looked back at Jack.

He grinned at her slyly. Then, taking up her plate from the table, Jack took an enormous bite of the cake he had ordered her to eat. He chewed… slowly. Licking his lips, he set the cake back down on the table and leaned back in his chair. For some reason, Sam found it impossible to shift her gaze away from him, perhaps for fear that his behaviour would become even more unnerving.

When he next spoke his tone was alive, saturated by his satisfaction. This is what he had been waiting for, this is what he had been praying for, and it really did mean a whole world of fun. Without breaking eye-contact with Sam, Jack's lips curved reverently around two words.

"Time loop."


End file.
